


Your Generic Post-AHBL Sam/Dean Platonic Love Story

by Port



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly snuggling, Crack, Deliberate Badfic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-01
Updated: 2007-11-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2908664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Port/pseuds/Port
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dean makes his deal, Sam tries--heroically--to cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Generic Post-AHBL Sam/Dean Platonic Love Story

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'ed by the irreplaceable Smilla. Written for the Fic Idol panel at Wincon '07. Shared now out of a sick desire to amuse people. Feedback is relished.

Dean Winchester awoke in his motel bed before dawn with the feeling of being watched. He opened his eyes and flinched back from the sight of a ghoulish, twisted face inches from his own.

"Christo!" he yelped.

The visage took on a familiar look of confusion, and Dean realized with relief that it was only Sam, staring at him with his bitch-face.

"Dude, you fugly," Dean intoned, trying to calm the erratic beating of his heart.

A lonesome tear leaked out of Sam's eye. "Why'd you do it, Dean?"

Dean sighed and sat up, the covers falling back from his bare chest. "If you're not careful, your face is gonna stick like that."

"No, it's not," Sam whined. "And you can't keep dodging the subject with stupid jokes, Dean. I am so sad and angry and frustrated at you for making a deal with the crossroads demon to bring me back to life, sort of like Dad saved you when you were in the hospital after a demon-possessed truck driver hit us and banged up the Impala. If I can't find a way to save you in less than a year, she's gonna kill you and take your soul to hell."

"Thank you Captain Recap," Dean muttered. "Do we have any coffee in this shitty, yet idiosyncratically funky motel room?"

"How do you think that makes me feel?" Sam demanded. Suddenly, the strain of holding his bitch-face in place became too much, and Sam began to weep.

"Aw, man. Look—come here." Dean felt his macho attitude shrink back as he was reminded of all the times he comforted Sam when Sam was just a little kid. He lifted the blankets up and pulled Sam into the bed with him, where he snuggled Sam against his chest in a brotherly cocoon of warmth. "Shhh," he cooed. But Sam kept crying.

"My—my face hurts, Dean."

Dean sighed and un-spooned himself from around his little brother so he could take a look at his face. He grimaced at what he saw. "Told you it would stick like that," Dean said. He poked Sam's cheek, which didn't yield at all. That was how he could tell that Sam was really upset about this whole selling-his-soul thing; Sam's expression only froze up like this when they had a really serious problem. It had last happened when Sam realized that Bobby was a little more fond of Dean than of Sam. ("Well, you did crack open his ceiling, dude," Dean had said in modest explanation, moving Sam to more tears.)

As he gently massaged the stiffened muscles in Sam's cheeks, Dean considered this newest revelation. 

"Sam, does this mean you… care about me?"

Dean's fingers had apparently learned a thing or two from that quarter-eating vibrating bed they'd once had, for Sam had his eyes closed and wore a lazy smile, pressing his cheeks up into the gentle pressure of Dean's callused digits.

"Sammy. Did you hear me? I asked if you really love me, man." Dean held his breath. All his life, he'd waited for someone he loved to love him back, but Dad had always been a little distracted, and Sam had ditched them both to go to college, and Cassie had kicked him out, and it was just plain awkward when one of his one-night stands muttered ‘I love you' in her sleep. But maybe he'd underestimated Sam…. So Dean waited tensely for his answer.

"Guh," Sam moaned in bliss now that his face had relaxed under Dean's manfully affectionate ministrations.

Dean sighed, trying not to feel too dejected. "Didn't think so."

He plopped down beside his brother.

"Dean? Can I sleep here tonight?"

"Whatever you want, Sammy." Because even if his feelings weren't returned, Dean would still do anything for Sam. He pulled the covers up over both of them, and Sam turned over and stretched one arm across Dean's chest, pressing close to him. He snuffled sleepily into Dean's shoulder.

"Gonna save you from going to hell, Dean. I promise."

Dean grunted, feeling sorry for himself because he was unloved. "Just don't hog the covers, bitch."

"Jerk."

The single word touched off a warm feeling that spread through Dean's insides, as if the seeming insult were a code word for something much more. The possibility lulled him toward sleep, Sam's contented sighs carrying him the rest of the way.

**The End**


End file.
